


The First Day

by tinypeckers



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypeckers/pseuds/tinypeckers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarge new recruits have arrived and he's not to happy with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Part of 2kficteen - send me prompts @ tinypeckers.tumblr.com or 2kficteen.tumblr.com

Dexter Grif grumbled as he dragged his worn and tattered suitcase into the base. It wasn’t his choice to be here and he’d (un)happily make it known. Grif dropped it onto the ground once he’d entered the sleeping quarters and then proceeded to kick it along the floor. Grif swallowed as he thought of his family back home and how he should be with them and not here. He imagined his sister trying to take care of their sick and ailing mother alone and he cursed the government for dragging him here. Grif was not the typical soldier. He was short and slightly on the chubbier side but he was old enough and more than capable so he’d been plucked from his home and sent here. Grif resented the place already. He was sure he’d hate his drill sergeant and he’d been told that he’d share the room with another soldier. Grif knew he wouldn’t like that man either.

 

 

As Grif took a seat on his claimed bed he heard someone approach. The door opened up and a tall, lanky ginger peered in. The man was deathly pale and Grif assumed that he too had been dragged here unwillingly as well. There was no way this man could have chosen to become a soldier.

“Ah, this is different.” The man said aloud before he stepped inside. His suitcase was significantly larger than Grif’s and it looked just as pristine as the man himself. “You must be my new bunk mate!” The man cried excitedly when he finally noticed Grif. Grif grunted noncommittally. “Not much of a talker, are you? I’m Dick Simmons.” Simmons introduced himself. Despite being an adult, Grif snickered at the stranger’s name. “What’s so funny?” Simmons snapped.

“Your name is Dick?” Grif asked eloquently before he made himself laugh again.

 

 

“Great, I’ve been put with a man-child.” Simmons sighed as he dropped his suitcase on the opposite bed to Grif’s. Grif snorted.

“At least I’m not a nerd.” Grif teased childishly. Simmons scoffed.

“I am not a nerd.” The ginger declared airily. Grif just smirked. “I am not!” Simmons nearly screeched at the other man.

“Whatever you say, bud. Nice case, did your mother pack it for you?” Grif teased further.

“No.” Simmons bit back but the flush on his cheeks told Grif otherwise. “Look at yours, did you get it from a thrift store?” Simmons said snottily. Grif sneered. He did not like this brat one bit. Grif opened his mouth to say something further but the door opened once more and a gruff voice cut through their bickering.

 

 

“All right, men – whose ready to win this war?” The man shouted as he stepped into the room. Though he was considerately older than the two privates with greying hair, this man actually had muscle and unlike the privates he looked as though he belonged in the military. “Oh. Who are you and what have you done with my privates?” The man barked. He ignored Grif’s snicker as Simmons stood and held out his hand for the man to shake.

“You must be our sergeant. I’m Dick Simmons at your service, sir!” Simmons greeted cheerily. The sergeant stuck his nose up at the private’s hand.

“Oh great, I thought I was getting soldiers not idiots.” The sergeant muttered to himself. “You can call me Sarge, Simmons. You are?” Sarge was glaring at Grif now.

“Dexter Grif, sir.” Grif introduced himself grumpily. Sarge heaved a sigh.

“Boy, have I got my work cut out for me.”

 

 

Grif hadn’t taken it too well when Sarge had ordered both he and Simmons to strip to their boxers. The sergeant was now standing before the two soldiers with a scowl. He looked first at the armour they had been issued and then back at the men.

“Neither of you are going to fit in those.” Sarge finally announced in the awkward silence.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grif barked defensively while Simmons shyly tried to cover up his freckled body.

“It means you’re fat and he’s freakishly skinny.” Sarge announced matter-of-factly.

“Could you not just tell command, sir? I’m sure they’ll issue out new uniforms.” Simmons suggested.

“Hah. You think they’re made of money? No, I’ll make some adjustments.” Sarge said. “Just give me a couple of hours.” He told them before waving them away.

“Uh… sir, can we have our clothes back then?” Simmons asked.

“You’ll be fine, private. Maybe the cold air will man you up a little.” Sarge replied.

 

 

A few hours later saw them finally putting on their armour. Simmons shifted awkwardly in his while Grif wheezed and panted beside him.

“This… is… a… little… tight.” Grif squeaked. Sarge shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s fine, you could stand to lose a little weight.” Sarge said.

“You bastard.” Grif spat. Sarge didn’t pay him any more attention. He turned to Simmons.

“What about you, how are you feeling private?” Sarge questioned. His armour seemed to fit for now.

“It fits wonderful, sir. Your handiwork is excellent and I really apprecia-“ Simmons was cut off by Sarge holding up his hand.

“Great, whatever. If you’re lucky, command will send down some custom colours instead of the standard red. Maybe then they will be the right size.” Sarge told them. Simmons and Grif both silently wished that that would be soon.

 

 

Sarge made the privates sit through hours and hours of talk about strategy after that. Simmons avidly took notes while Grif amused himself by counting random things around the room. He lost count more often than not and resigned himself to taking a nap towards the end of it.

“And that’s how we’ll get those filthy blues!” Sarge shouted. Grif startled and awoke.

“We’ll make you proud, sir – don’t worry about it.” Simmons said eagerly while Grif stared at him in disbelief. Sarge forced a smile upon his face. Simmons, at the very least, was excited about it. Sarge could not say the same for Grif but he hoped that with time his two privates would evolve into excellent soldiers. Even if they didn’t, Sarge could always build his own with the robotics kit he’d had laying around since he’d started himself.

 

 

By the time night rolled around the two privates were exhausted. Grif fell onto his bed with all the grace of a drunken man and exhaled in bliss when he relaxed into the mattress. Simmons took his time to unfold the duvet and tuck it back. Grif watched in amusement as Simmons fished a pair of pyjamas from his bag and proceeded to put it on. Grif had personally chosen to sleep just in his boxers and had no qualms about decency.

“You look like you’re going to a fancy dinner rather than to bed.” Grif remarked conversationally.

“They’re comfortable.” Simmons explained curtly. They could hear Sarge relax into his own bunk next door. He had his own private room.

“I’m sure they are, posh boy.” Grif teased as he rolled over in his bed. He couldn’t be bothered to lift the duvet just yet. Simmons didn’t bother to reply as he climbed into his own bed.

 

 

Grif had tried to fall asleep, honestly, but between Sarge’s snores coming through the walls and the soft sobbing of his new bunkmate it was impossible. Grif cursed his caring instincts as he turned to face the other man in the dark.

“Simmons?” Grif called out tentatively. There was a sniff and Grif was sure that Simmons was rubbing the tears away.

“What?” Simmons said. His voice was wavering a little. Grif heaved a sigh.

“Are you all right?” Grif questioned.

“I’m fine.” Simmons snapped back. Grif rolled his eyes.

“No you’re not. C’mon, come over here.” Grif offered. At some point he’d snuggled under his duvet and now he lifted it up as an invitation for Simmons.

“You don’t mind?” The other man asked.

“No, I don’t mind.” Grif sighed heavily.

 

 

Before Grif could change his mind Simmons had bolted across the floor and into his bed. Grif hadn’t quite expected the way Simmons curled up close against him and pressed his face into Grif’s chest. Grif slowly lowered the duvet and let his arm wrap around the skinnier man.

“Better?” Grif asked. Simmons nodded.

“This is much better. Thank you.” Simmons whispered.

“Don’t mention it.” Grif muttered. Simmons started to quieten down just as Grif settled his chin upon the ginger’s head. Grif smiled as Sarge’s snores also began to die down next door. Perhaps the army wasn’t going to be too bad.


End file.
